I have found a tenacious rhythm in the life of the church. As Christ Community's Senior Pastor and primary preacher and teacher, I have come to notice that every seventh day is a Sunday. I have tried to stretch and condense the rhythm of the week but to no avail, the first day of the week rolls around and it is time to preach once again. I love doing what I do and I love speaking of Christ's forgiveness, mercy, grace and love. There is, however, Monday to deal with.
Sunday I am with people all day (I'm an extrovert this is fine), but when I crawl into bed on Sunday night I am tired -- physically, emotionally, spiritually tired. When I rise on Monday that weariness seems to settle in and, like a Spring fog in Central New York, usually doesn't burn off until early afternoon. Typically, my solution to this is to NOT inflict myself on people on Monday morning. Sometimes it is unavoidable, sometimes it is essential, nonetheless, given a choice, I work hard to be invisible, quiet, reflective on a Monday.
Life has rhythms and patterns. The birth, growth, decline, death cycle is familiar (and, frankly, unavoidable). There is the rhythm of sunrise and sunset. The seasons spin from Summer to Fall to Winter to Spring and back to Summer again. We are surrounded by patterns and rhythms. I suspect this is why many of the ancient ones of the Christian movement recommended some type of rhythmic approach to the spiritual life. They developed the monastic hours for prayer throughout the day. They developed the Christian calendar (Lent/Easter/Pentecost/etc.) to frame the rhythm of each passing year.
It is Monday and my rhythmic pattern is to hide for a while and then slowly re-emerge.